What could I wish for the present but to take the greatest pleasure in being what I am?
Work is the opposite of creativity.
Ideally a book would have no order in it, and the reader would have to discover his own.
To be rich nowadays merely means to possess a large number of poor objects.
The eruption of lived pleasure is such that in losing myself I find myself; forgetting that I exist, I realize myself.
Work to survive, survive by consuming, survive to consume: the hellish cycle is complete.
In an industrial society which confuses work and productivity, the necessity of producing has always been an enemy of the desire to create.
It is entirely up to us to invent our own lives.
Daily life is governed by an economic system in which the production and consumption of insults tends to balance out.
Our task is not to rediscover nature but to remake it.